affic, the chatter, the distant wail of a siren-rushed in to fill the silence in her head. S

ed-purple cloud rolled in from the west, swallowing the sun. The first d

ntial downpour began, sending pedestrians scram

ept wa

r cashmere sweater, the cold seeping deep into her bones. But

stumbled to the side, ducking under the awning of a closed bookstore. She slid down the b

cried for the painting. She cried for the baby she would never have. She cried f

asked her weeping, giving h

in her line of sight. They stopped directly in front of

une lifte

s expensive suit soaked, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. He wasn't hold

hed into a familiar, satisfying certainty. This. This was w

rmance?" he asked, his voice

er cheeks. He had followed her out here not

continued, his lip curling in a sn

act? You think if you cry in the rain, I'll feel sorry for you? That I'll go

hing that had been broken a

treaming down her face, indistinguishable from one another. She looked at this ma

simply turned to walk

erate. He lunged forward, his hand clamping around her wrist

you," he snarled, h

s," she said. Her voic

closer. "You will come with me. You will not s

e his black Bentley was idling, the driver st

its own. He opened the back door and practically shoved h

e noise and the rain,

rip of water from their soaked clothes onto the plush leather seats, a

ing, and he had his wife, compliant and silent beside him. So why did he feel